Orphans?

I never thought about being an orphan.  It is interesting to sort of reconsider us in this light.  But when I think about it, we are all orphans.  A bit of family history - Mom had nine kids in ten years.  I am the oldest.  The youngest is ten years, two months and one week younger than me.  The oldest of the boys was born before my first birthday.  For eleven days each year we are the same age, and so we have always told people we are twins - just for these days.  But think about a one year old baby.  Most do not walk  Mine were still very needy and dependent.  I was this little and vulnerable when I had to give up Mom and make room for another.  And Mom will tell you I was a good baby.  I rarely cried, just waited patiently to be noticed.  One of the most important things I remember is hearing,  "Not now.  Just wait and I'll get to you."  I think I'm still waiting.  No, I know I am still waiting...waiting for someone to notice me and invite me into life.  And I don't blame Mom.  She did a great job of taking care of us.  It was just too much for one person to handle.  And I was too young to be of any help, and so we didn't learn to take care of each other.  She didn't have time to teach us.  A friend referred to her kids as feral, and I've sort of adopted that tag for us.  We were feral children!  We were all sort of on our own.  We were raised in the "cry it out" generation of baby rearing wisdom.  Even at an early age we had to take care of ourselves.  We knew we were alone.  It may be why we can go years without seeing each other or even talking much.  We don't know how to be there for each other.  I feel like I don't do enough for my kids.  I do what I can, but sometimes I just don't know what to do - because I never learned.

I homeschooled and I thought a lot about experiential learning.  You talk about buying into the family patterns/family secrets.  Honey, you lived them.  It has nothing to do with buying into or believing the unspoken truths of our family.  Talk about experiential learning!  And I don't know why it happens, why some of us avoided repeating the patterns...I know  that people who abuse were abused.  But there are other people who were abused who would never, ever treat another the way they were treated.  Why does this happen?  Where does that morality, that understanding, that humanity come from?  Does it have to do with the level of abuse?  The age when it occurred?  The length of time?  The presence of others in our lives that acknowledge that we are okay?

Your last line - the light permeates even the darkest corners scares the crap out of me.  I know this is what we are doing.  But I forget that we are going to find things in the corners of our memories, intentionally shoved in boxes and slammed shut because we couldn't handle it.  I am afraid, please remind me that I am not alone.  When we find the broken, bloody parts of ourselves that we won't be alone...I won't be alone.  I will have my sister.

Love from Clare